Shadows
by Buffy4evr2001
Summary: Mysteries are unfolding in Seattle and a dead man with a barcode on his neck catches Max's attention.
1. Default Chapter

In the shadows  
  
_ _ _  
  
Friday night. The place was packed with people who   
wanted to forget, if only for a second, the dreary   
sorts of things they had to do to earn a buck.  
  
Max was bored. When had partying all night started to   
bore her? But it just couldn't compare to the   
excitement of stealing, kicking ass, or generally   
saving the world. If she didn't watch out, she was   
gonna turn into somebody just like Logan, who was   
probably already tucked safely into bed, dreaming   
sweet dreams of...what did Logan dream about, anyway?   
She suddenly wondered.  
  
"What's on your mind, Boo?" Original Cindy asked,   
breaking through into Max's thoughts. Max blinked and   
looked at her. "You've been circling in outer space   
all night. Not like you."  
  
Increasingly like me, Max thought, shrugging at her   
friend's question. She forced a smile and sensed   
Original Cindy relax.  
  
"Oh, god, who is that?" Kendra appeared next to them   
at the bar, her hair wild and face slick with sweat   
from the exertions she'd excused herself for. Max   
and Original Cindy both turned to look. "He's   
beautiful!"  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Cindy said in her usual disapproving tone,   
then glanced at Max.  
  
"Very pretty," Max judged. And the boy who'd captured   
their attention was all that and more, with dark hair   
and intense blue eyes and the hint of a nicely tuned   
physique under his t-shirt and jeans.  
  
"Taken," Original Cindy noted as they watched a woman   
in a black dress place herself between them and the   
beauty. Kendra sighed and turned away to order a   
beer but Max watched a moment longer. Long enough to   
see the woman's hand close possessively over the   
young man's arm as she handed him a cup of something   
strong and alcoholic, which he drained quickly.  
  
"Where's your friend tonight?" Max asked Original   
Cindy.  
  
"She's taken up with some man," Original Cindy   
replied disapprovingly.  
  
"Sorry," Kendra said, knocking back another beer.   
Just another Friday night.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Joey was gonna get lucky tonight. New boy in town,   
wins them every time, he thought. At least that was   
what his friends back home had advised him before he   
left for the big, bad city of Seattle. Things seemed   
to be working out well, he thought as he finished off   
the drink the mystery woman had brought to him.  
  
She was visibly older than his sixteen years. Then   
again, he knew he looked more than sixteen. Eighteen,   
at least. Joey also knew he had a smile that made   
most women's knees melt. He was gonna put that to   
work for him. He'd show the people back at home.  
  
"...my hotel room," the woman murmured to him. She   
had to lean in close so he could hear her over the   
throbbing beat of the dance music in the club, and   
the cheers for a guy who was doing bike tricks up on   
the bar. No, this was nothing like home, Joey   
thought.  
  
She had to be loaded to have a hotel room, he noted.   
Yeah, they were going to use each other real good. He   
tossed the empty cup away from him and took a   
lurching step. Must have been stronger than he'd   
realized. He flashed his killer smile at the woman -   
he didn't even know her name! - and he knew this was   
going to be the most memorable night of life.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Cold. Joey shivered as he started to emerge from the   
deep blackness of the alcoholic stupor he'd fallen   
into. He couldn't remember where he was or why it was   
so cold. And he couldn't get his eyes open, even as   
he continued to shiver and felt his teeth click   
against each other in uncontrollable spasms.  
  
He felt like he'd been hit by a truck. A big one.   
What the hell did I do? He asked himself. The last   
thing he remembered was hooking up with some chick in   
a bar. And why the hell was it so cold?  
  
Finally he got his eyes to open. He was in the   
bathtub...and it was filled with ice. What the hell?   
He started to get up, but his body protested.   
  
Joey turned and saw a telephone resting on the back   
of the toilet, just within reach from the bathtub. "I   
am never drinking again," he groaned, shifting to   
grab the receiver.  
  
That was when he felt it. Something hard and sharp   
digging into his back. "What the..." Digging his hand   
into the ice, to Joey's horror he felt a pair of deep   
slits in the skin of his back, too cold from the ice   
to hurt.  
  
"He's awake."   
  
"That's impossible."  
  
The voices came from the other room. Joey opened his   
mouth to yell out, scream for help...something...but   
there was no sound. He was scared and sick and he   
wished like hell he'd never left home as the bathroom   
door banged open and two people he'd never seen   
before.  
  
"Please," said Joey.  
  
The man looked at the woman with a roll of his eyes.  
  
"Please," Joey requested more frantically.  
  
The woman nodded.  
  
"We're going to knock you out again. To make this   
more pleasant for all of us," the man informed Joey,   
leaning in close.  
  
"Help me," Joey begged the woman as the man picked up   
the telephone and smashed him across the face with   
it. And everything went black.  
  
_ _ _  
  
1.  
  
Max's pager went off around 4 a.m. She rose silently   
from where she'd been lying, contemplating the world   
and where she could score some quick cash, and   
pressed the display. Logan. She frowned slightly. Had   
to be some kind of serious emergency at this hour.  
  
Minutes later she was blazing on her bike, feeling   
the wind tearing through her hair. For those moments,   
she was truly free, moving through the atmosphere at   
the speed she was meant to move, even if she was   
depending on the bike's power rather than her own.  
  
Logan's apartment building was quiet in the middle of   
the night, though she did use the front door and the   
elevator rather than challenge herself with the   
Spiderman routine. Mostly because she wanted to know   
what was going on, and quell the small pittipat in   
her chest that was caused by worry.  
  
"Logan?" She pushed the door open.  
  
"In here."  
  
The calm, even tenor of his voice made her feel   
better as she strolled through the penthouse to the   
computer room, where as usual his face was bathed in   
the pale blue light from the screen.  
  
"You look like a mad scientist," she commented,   
irritated that she'd gone to all the trouble of   
actually feeling a human emotion like worry and he   
was sitting up here fine as usual.  
  
"There's something I think you'd like to see."  
  
"Obviously, since you got me out of bed at 4 in the   
morning." She leaned against the counter, waiting   
for him to tell her what was so important.  
  
Instead he looked at her with a mildly amused   
expression. Or was that intrigued? Sometimes it was   
hard to tell. "I thought you didn't sleep."  
  
"Sleeping's not the only thing to do at 4 a.m.," she   
informed him and watched his face darken. For a   
second she thought he was actually going to blush as   
he turned quickly back to face the computer and began   
tapping on keys.  
  
"Sorry I interrupted your evening," he said stiffly.  
  
She shrugged. "'s okay. I can contemplate the   
messed-upness of the world at large tomorrow night."  
  
He glanced at her like he didn't believe her, but she   
felt him relax.  
  
"Whatcha got?"  
  
"This." Two more clicks on the keyboard and a grainy   
black and white image filled the screen. A time code   
ran at the bottom, indicating it was a feed from a   
security camera.  
  
Max watched as a crowd of men in white coats -   
doctors, she supposed - clustered down the hallway.   
Once they'd passed, where there had been an empty   
space of wall was now occupied by a gurney with a   
lumpy figure on it. She squinted, then arched an   
eyebrow at the limitations of videotape as compared   
to her enhanced visual abilities.  
  
A few long minutes rolled by on the tape without   
anything happening. It didn't have sound on it, so   
the two of them were alone in the room with only the   
soft sound of the computers' constantly running fan.   
Max was aware that Logan was watching her while she   
watched the tape. She wondered why he didn't fast   
forward or something while she listened to him   
breathing.  
  
One of the nurses noticed the mystery gurney. She   
stopped and then apparently she started yelling,   
because other doctors and nurses began to gather   
round.   
  
"Keep your eyes on the patient," Logan suggested, so   
Max did. The guy was in horrible shape, with most of   
his face smashed, his limbs limp and weak. She would   
have thought he was dead except she could see the   
labored rise and fall of his chest as one of the   
nurses held him up while doctors buzzed around like   
flies.  
  
"Did you see that?" Logan said suddenly.  
  
Max glanced at him, because she hadn't seen anything.   
He met her eyes, then started typing. The video   
reversed a few frames and Logan placed his finger   
against the screen. "That shadow there."  
  
"It's just a shadow," she said, although tension was   
building inside her. The place he'd indicated the   
shadow was at the back of the beaten patient's neck.   
Where her bar code was.  
  
A few more clicks and taps and Logan zoomed in. The   
quality of the picture was mostly lost in the   
enlargement, but there was no mistaking it. The   
patient had a bar code marked at the back of his   
neck.  
  
"Where did you get this?" she asked.  
  
"A source brought it to my attention," Logan said.  
  
"The time code's a little more than an hour ago. Just   
before you beeped me," Max pointed out. Logan didn't   
say anything and turned away, making like busywork on   
the computer. "You hacked into the security feed at   
the hospital for a little late night viewing fun?"   
she asked incredulously.  
  
Logan met her eyes and shrugged a little, as though   
to say, What did you expect?  
  
"What do you do when you want to get really wild?"   
she asked flirtatiously.  
  
"I had a tip something was going to go down tonight   
at Metro Hospital."  
  
"And something did," Max said. "Can we get more on   
this guy?"  
  
"Nobody knows more," Logan said. "I went through the   
databases. He just appeared out of nowhere in the   
hospital hallway."  
  
"With a bar code. People don't just appear with bar   
codes on their necks, Logan -"  
  
"I know," he said quietly. "There's only one way to   
get more information at this point."  
  
"Go over there and show them my bar code and tell   
them we're long-lost siblings, can't you see the   
resemblance of the ones and zeros printed on our   
skin?" Max snapped. "You had a tip something was   
going down, who's to say Lydecker and his guys didn't   
have the same information. I go down there, they're   
gonna be all over it."  
  
"You're afraid of Lydecker?" Logan asked.  
  
Max frowned, but she didn't say no.  
  
"Then I'll go down there," Logan told her.  
  
"NO!" she cried, making him look at her curiously.   
Like he wanted her to explain herself. Which of   
course she couldn't. "I'll go."  
  
Logan nodded. "I'll see what I can find out from   
here." But as he said it, he was tapping keys again,   
re-entering the live pictures coming from the   
hospital's security cameras. She looked at him and he   
glanced up. "I've got your back."  
  
"Then I'm a lucky girl," she purred and strolled out.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max burst through the doors into the receiving area,   
hoping to create a scene. She hadn't counted on there   
already being a scene when she arrived. It was a   
violent city from the looks of things as she wove   
between the rows of chairs, each of them containing   
someone crying, moaning, bleeding or some combination   
of the three.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" The nurse behind the counter   
gave her a once-over.  
  
"Nothing," Max said, surprised by the question.  
  
"We ain't got time for people there's nothing wrong   
with," the nurse said and turned to the man who was   
standing too close behind her, bleeding from what   
appeared to be a puncture wound to his jugular vein.   
Max looked at him in horror, his declining vital   
signs registering somewhere in the soldier's part of   
her brain. He wasn't going to make it.  
  
"I need a trauma team, now!" the nurse called to   
someone behind her, calm as though she saw this sort   
of thing a thousand times a night. Which maybe she   
did.  
  
A memory overtook Max, a strong one. Were there ever   
any that weren't strong, that didn't shake her to the   
core of her being? She'd left the house without her   
daily dose of tryptophan and now that the sun was   
coming up, she needed it right on schedule.  
  
Training exercises. The guns were so heavy in their   
little hands, with the bayonets attached to them. The   
first few times they'd stabbed and cut their way   
through an army of scarecrows, scattering straw   
everywhere. Even though they were soldiers, there   
was a childlike innocence to their thinking - after   
all, they were only six or seven years old. So they   
were surprised that morning when they were called out   
for exercises that they were no longer facing bodies   
stuffed with straw.  
  
They were facing other children, just like them.   
Faces painted black with camouflage. Eyes locked on   
eyes, the fear palpable between the two forces. But   
then something clicked and broke through. Survival.   
And the chase was on.  
  
Max blinked, turned her head. Wondered why she was   
lying on the floor. Damn it. She started to get up,   
still feeling mild twitching in her arms and legs.   
Seizure. Just what she needed. Come from nowhere and   
knocked her on her ass. And Logan probably watching   
on through the security camera.  
  
"Are you all right?" A doctor.  
  
Max nodded, swallowing back nausea and getting to her   
feet.  
  
"How long have the seizures been going on?" he asked,   
shining a small flashlight into each of her eyes.  
  
"My whole life," she said and he jerked back the   
light in surprise. She looked at him and saw he   
wasn't so very much older than she was. "That's not   
why I'm here."  
  
"It's not?" he looked intrigued, but then he glanced   
aside and she knew he was taking in the bleeding,   
pathetic masses waiting for care.  
  
"My...husband didn't get home. I'm afraid he might   
have gotten into some kind of trouble. He's been   
dealing with some people who might be a   
little...violent," she explained.  
  
The doctor just looked at her like he couldn't help   
her.  
  
Max focused on the video feed she'd seen at Logan's.   
"Dark hair...jeans and a t-shirt...they would have   
beaten him up pretty bad." She looked pleadingly at   
the doctor, who she could tell was ready to make a   
break to help someone else. But she needed to know.   
So she had to play her trump card. "He's got this   
weird tattoo at the back of his neck. Kinda like one   
of those codes you see on stuff from before the   
pulse. Lines, with numbers..."  
  
"A bar code," the doctor said.  
  
"A bar code, yeah," Max echoed with a simpering yet   
innocent smile. It worked every time. "Is he here?   
Please -"  
  
"Sit down and stay here," the doctor told her,   
steering her to one of the waiting area chairs. "I'll   
come back for you when I have a moment."  
  
"Is he here?" Max demanded, but the doctor was   
already gone. She made a bit of a face at being left   
like this, without the information she wanted, still   
feeling shaky. She checked the time on her pager,   
knowing she was due at Jam Pony in an hour. Then she   
scanned the room for the security camera. It was   
hidden, but she located it fairly quickly and shot   
Logan a smile, knowing he was watching her.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Logan was frowning into the computer screen. His   
stomach only tightened when he saw Max's beatific   
smile, obviously for his benefit. He'd watched her   
have that seizure. One minute talking to the nurse   
and the next minute she was gone, on the floor in   
spasms. And sitting there, he couldn't help her.  
  
It made him feel helpless. Powerless. And those   
emotions made him angry. Angry at himself, at the   
situation he found himself in.  
  
He heard the door behind him and wheeled around.   
"Good morning, Bling," he said, greeting his paid   
companion.  
  
"You sit up all night again?" Bling inquired, taking   
in Logan's appearance.  
  
"If you're going to give me a lecture -" Logan began,   
aware that he should have at least gone to wash up.   
But he couldn't take his eyes off Max.  
  
"It's your life. I wanted to let you know there's   
someone here to see you."  
  
Logan's eyes shot to the screen, but there was Max,   
looking surly on the video feed. He looked at Bling,   
waiting for some explanation. But Bling had none.   
"I've never seen her before and she wouldn't give me   
her name."  
  
"Curious," Logan said. "Show her into the living   
room." Casting a last glance at Max and hoping she   
could look after herself, he wheeled out of the   
computer room.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Where is Max?" Normal demanded of the messengers who   
were standing in front of him. Original Cindy,   
Sketchy and Herbal looked at each other, remaining   
silent, none of them with any answers. "She is on   
call. She is supposed to be here," Normal emphasized.  
  
"Maybe she realize we all waiting for something, mon,   
and when the time come to wait and the time come to   
do, it always better to do than to wait, cause action   
is the --"  
  
"Herbal?" Normal interrupted, causing the other man   
to look at him. "I don't understand what the hell   
you're saying."  
  
"I think he's saying -" Sketchy began, prompting   
Normal to make an "ah-ah-ah," sound while shaking his   
finger, because when he said he didn't understand   
Herbal, he wasn't saying he wanted an explanation.  
  
"It all good, mon," Herbal said with a contented   
smile, which made Original Cindy smirk. She was   
pretty sure he spouted nonsense just to get to   
Normal. And it worked. So word up to the homeboy, far   
as she was concerned.  
  
"We have a very important client whose account is   
starting today. Do you know what that means? More   
packages. Lots of money," Normal enunciated the word   
as though he expected the messengers to be unfamiliar   
with it. Which they probably were, considering the   
pay wasn't great.  
  
"So page her," Original Cindy said, cutting to the   
heart of the matter as usual.  
  
"Page her. Of course," Normal said. "Why are you   
still standing here? Go! Go!" He waved them away with   
his hands, and with simultaneous rolls of their eyes,   
the messengers went on their way.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max's pager went off and she shifted to get it,   
glancing first at the video camera. But it wasn't   
Logan. The number that displayed belonged to Jam   
Pony. Normal was gonna be on the rampage and she had   
better things to think about than excuses to give   
him. She clicked off the beeper and shifted in her   
seat.  
  
Maybe it was time to give up on the good doctor and   
do a bit of nosing around on her own. She scanned the   
layout, making her decisions. Making a plan. They'd   
been taught to always have a plan, and a backup in   
case that didn't work out. A means of escape, because   
escape meant survival.  
  
"I can take you to see him now," the doctor said,   
reappearing in front of her while she was mentally   
counting steps to the exit, in case it suddenly   
became dark or smoky. Hey, anything could happen.  
  
Max got up, casting a final look at the video camera,   
wondering mildly if the good doctor was leading her   
into a trap. He'd had enough time to set one up.  
  
But Logan was watching.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Except the computer room was empty and Logan's   
attention was focused elsewhere. Standing in the   
living room with her back to him as she looked out   
the window as a lovely young blond woman, wearing   
jeans and a black jacket that swept almost to her   
knees. He watched her for a moment without saying   
anything and then she must have sensed his presence   
because she turned.  
  
He saw it on her face. An expression he recognized   
well, having seen it on the faces of the few old   
friends who'd come to visit who didn't know. Its   
absence was even more disturbing, tipping him off   
that the particular old friend had been keeping tabs   
on him. Like Valerie. That had been his first clue   
she hadn't just come to apologize.  
  
"Gretchen. It's been a long time. What brings you   
here?" he asked pleasantly after giving her a moment   
to recover.  
  
"It has been a long time," she acknowledged, walking   
over to him and placing a dry, chaste kiss on his   
cheek. "I would ask how you are but..."  
  
"I'm fine," he answered. The sad look in her blue   
eyes pulled at something inside him, something he   
hadn't even thought about since he'd last seen her.   
"And so are you, by the looks of it."  
  
She nodded. She was older. But so was he, when he   
thought about it. It had been a long time since those   
carefree college days with their entire futures ahead   
of them. "What's it been now, ten years?" she said,   
a hint of nervousness in her voice.  
  
"Seven," he said. Seven years since he'd pushed a   
little too far and had to head underground to avoid   
the government backlash against the press. Funny how   
it almost seemed like yesterday.  
  
"I'm in trouble," Gretchen said, and Logan nodded.   
The proclamation was not entirely unexpected.   
Gretchen glanced around, assuring herself they were   
alone and then she moved closer to make up for her   
very low tone of voice. "The kind of trouble I need   
that requires the help of Eyes Only."  
  
He could only stare at her, stunned by her words. 


	2. Iced

"He's in very bad condition," the doctor told Max as   
he walked through the halls. "It's amazing he's held   
on this long. Maybe he was waiting for you to come."  
  
The words were like a knife, because she wasn't   
actually the man's wife. And maybe there was someone   
at home who didn't know. Someone the man was actually   
clinging to life in order to see again, one last   
time. "What's wrong with him?" Max asked.  
  
The doctor stopped outside a door marked "No Entry."   
Max noted the security lock on the door, frowning at   
it. "You need to prepare yourself," he told her.  
  
"Why?" Max asked, then remembered she was supposed to   
be playing the grieving, worried wife rather than the   
revved up soldier girl. "What did they do to him?"  
  
"Your husband has been badly beaten. Beyond   
badly...The bones of his face are shattered. And the   
other things they did..." The doctor trailed off as   
though it was difficult to find the words. "I   
ordinarily wouldn't let you go in there, except I   
think he has been waiting for you. Waiting to see you   
again, before he dies. And he should die." The doctor   
found her eyes again. "I'm sorry, but it would be the   
most merciful thing."  
  
Max felt sick. There was no mercy in death.  
  
After a moment, the doctor looked away from her,   
clearing his throat and then speaking detachedly.   
"Both his eyes are gone, one of his legs was severed.   
His chest is an open wound, part of his lungs have   
been destroyed --" He paused and looked at her,   
taking in the shock on her face, and closed his   
mouth. "I'll let you say goodbye."  
  
He pressed the code into the security pad on the door   
and Max instantly memorized the tones before she   
stepped inside.  
  
The room smelled like death. She glanced behind and   
saw the doctor standing in the hall. He nodded, and   
closed the door. She was alone with the man. The   
doctor hadn't been kidding; the guy was already dead   
even as he struggled for breath. Max frowned,   
wondering who would have done such a horrible thing.  
  
His face was a mass of pulp. Blunt force trauma, Max   
thought, but that wouldn't account for what the doc   
had said about his eyes being gone. There was too   
much swelling for her to tell for sure. Something   
wasn't right about this.  
  
She moved closer and the man startled, choking   
slightly. Coming into what must have been a painful   
and terrible consciousness. "It's okay, I'm here,"   
she said, knowing it wasn't her voice he'd been   
hoping to hear. She touched him lightly, turning him   
so she could see the mark at the back of his neck.  
  
Something about it didn't look right. Didn't look   
Manticore. Although what did she know, she hadn't   
exactly spent a lot of time recently checking out the   
back of her own neck in the mirror. She memorized the   
sequence of numbers and the bar pattern. Manticore   
was the only thing that made sense, considering what   
had been done to this guy. Obviously someone wanted   
what Lydecker referred to as "the technology" so   
badly they were willing to steal it, piece by piece.  
  
Sickened, Max began to turn away, but the dying man   
reached for her, like a child asking for comfort. Her   
heart hardened and she stopped, touching his hand. He   
might have been one of her siblings, and if he was   
one of her siblings it might have just as easily been   
her lying in that bed with pieces of her missing.   
When he reached for her blindly, she took his hand   
and stood there until the last gasping breath faded   
from his body.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"What are you talking about?" Logan asked, finally   
finding words through his stunned fog. No one knew   
about his secret life as Eyes Only. No one except   
Max. Not even Bling. And it had to be that way, or he   
was going to end up with more than a blasted-out   
spine to worry about.  
  
Gretchen looked at him, her expression almost amused.   
"Come on, Logan. You know I never forget a face."  
  
He just looked at her, feeling the pounding pulse of   
his heart in his chest. He should be making excuses,   
he thought.  
  
"Did you really think these were enough to hide your   
identity?" she continued, her voice turning soft. He   
looked at her curiously, recognizing the cadence of   
her voice across the years, as she reached out with   
one gentle hand and removed the glasses resting   
against the bridge of his nose.  
  
He blinked to bring her now-softened image into   
focus. He really was nearsighted - it wasn't all fun   
and disguises.  
  
"The only question really," Gretchen continued   
softly, setting his glasses on a nearby table, "is   
why."  
  
Why was definitely the question, Logan thought, as   
Gretchen did what she'd always done after removing   
his glasses, which was press her lips against his.  
  
"Hey Logan, you were right, something weird is   
definitely going on with -- oh."  
  
Max's voice. Max. Damn, Logan thought, fumbling to   
bring himself back to his senses, one hand flailing   
out for his glasses, the other moving to give   
Gretchen a not-so-subtle push away. Of course in his   
flustered state, his hand landed directly on her   
breast, which wasn't exactly the encouragement to   
leave him alone that he'd intended it to be.  
  
"Um, sorry," Gretchen said, her tone flat as she   
yanked down the hem of her shirt, moving to sit   
further back on the couch. She looked as perplexed as   
he felt.  
  
"Max -" Logan said, turning, but all he saw was the   
door being pulled closed.   
  
"I shouldn't have done that," Gretchen admitted, and   
Logan was surprised to see her eyes were wide with   
something like nervousness or fear. That would be a   
new personality addition, he thought. "Aren't you   
going to go after her?"  
  
Logan gave it a moment's thought, knowing the express   
elevator would already be spiriting Max down to the   
ground floor, where he would be unable to catch up   
with her. "No," he said. "I'll take care of it   
later." He returned his attention to Gretchen. "Why   
are you here?"  
  
"I've come into some information about a secret   
government project," she said. "The kind of   
information that is generally life-threatening in   
this day and age. It's also something the public   
needs to know about. You're the one who can tell   
them."  
  
"Are you sure you want to put yourself on the line   
like this?" he asked her. "It's perfectly acceptable   
to walk away." He'd watched plenty of people do it,   
put their safety first.  
  
"Not to me, it isn't," she said and he felt himself   
relax. Same old Gretchen.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"You're late," Normal said without looking up the   
very second Max crossed the threshold.  
  
She said nothing, continuing on a straight line to   
her locker as she continued to puzzle over what she'd   
seen at Logan's.  
  
"And you didn't answer your pager," Normal added.  
  
Max resisted the urge to show him a display of her   
upraised middle finger and leaned against the cool   
metal of the lockers, spinning the dial and listening   
to the clicks as the tumblers fell into place before   
yanking it open.  
  
"Max," Normal continued.  
  
She turned and glared at him. "On call," she said.  
  
"On call means ready, willing and able to make   
deliveries should the need arise. The need arose.   
These have less than thirty minutes to make their   
destination. Which is why you were on call."  
  
"No sweat," Max said, slamming shut her locker and   
putting on her baseball cap, backward as fashion   
dictated. "Not like it's a matter of life and   
death," she informed Normal as she paused at the   
dispatch desk to shove the boxes piled there into her   
backpack. They were cold to the touch. She glanced   
at their labels. They were going to Metro Hospital.  
  
"Thirty minutes," Normal repeated. Max rolled her   
eyes and walked her bike out of the shop.  
  
"Psst!" The sound came from the alley around the   
corner. Max stopped and turned, breaking into a   
smile at the sight of her friends kickin' it in the   
alley. Break time came early today from the looks of   
it.  
  
"Normal mad you're late?" Sketchy asked as Original   
Cindy broke off a piece of the sandwich she was   
eating to share it with Max.  
  
"Yeah, thanks for covering for me," Max responded.   
"You're a real pal." She pushed the food into her   
mouth. Not bad. She glanced at the stack of backpacks   
tossed against the wall. "I thought we were all   
working on some super-rush emergency dealio."  
  
"Hunger emergency," Sketchy replied.  
  
"And these fine things just happened to fall off the   
lunch truck while it be stopped at the side o' the   
road by the sector police," Herbal added, handing Max   
another sandwich, this one wrapped in plastic.  
  
"New client," Original Cindy explained to Max. "Lots   
of money. Course none of it goes to us, so who really   
cares if it gets there now or later? It'll get   
there."  
  
Max nodded.  
  
"You look upset, Boo, what's wrong?" Original Cindy   
asked.  
  
Max shook her head.  
  
"Man," Cindy diagnosed, saying the word as though it   
was the very description of evil. She slung her arm   
around Max's shoulders. "A girl would never break   
your heart, sugar."  
  
"Are you two gonna do it? Cause that would be cool to   
watch --" Sketchy began, but Max shot him a look that   
silenced him. He shrugged and moved off toward his   
backpack, food finished and with no promise of   
immediate entertainment. Then his face wrinkled and   
he held the bag at arm's length. "Phew," he   
commented, waving the air in front of his nose.  
  
Max's pager went off. She made no move to look at it,   
just continued chewing her food until the beeping   
stopped.  
  
"Mmm-hmm," Original Cindy commented. Max glanced at   
her, waiting for the rest of the lecture. Thankfully,   
it didn't follow.  
  
Beep. Beep. Beep.  
  
"Augh!" Max cried, ready to throw her pager on the   
ground and stomp on it. Logan obviously had better   
things to do, so why couldn't he just leave her   
alone?  
  
"Relax, it's mine," Sketchy said.  
  
"When'd you get a pager?" Original Cindy demanded.  
  
"Natalie likes knowing where I am," Sketchy said   
proudly.  
  
"Only cause she's not so sure 'bout where you been,"   
Original Cindy retorted disgustedly.  
  
"Gotta blaze," Sketchy said, climbing onto his bike.   
"You'll cover for me, Max?" he called before he   
rounded the corner and disappeared into traffic.  
  
"Yeah, like he covered for me this morning. Jerk,"   
Max said. She sighed and stretched. "Well, gainful   
employment beckons." She rolled her eyes as she   
shouldered her backpack, the contents of which were   
still radiating cold through the material. She got on   
her bike, as did Cindy and Herbal. The three of them   
parted ways at the first intersection.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Your safety will be assured," Logan promised   
Gretchen, businesslike now. "I just need names and   
dates, verifiable details."  
  
Gretchen nodded and leaned over to withdraw a folder   
from her bag, which she handed to Logan. He couldn't   
help noticing the way her hair fell forward. He must   
have looked a moment too long because she caught him   
and smiled.  
  
"Why did we break up, anyway?" she asked, sounding as   
though she was feeling the same wistful yearning for   
days gone by that he was at that moment.  
  
"Wanted different things from life," he reminded her,   
glancing through her notes. Everything seemed to be   
on the up and up, documents interweaving bits of fact   
to tell a story. "This is big," he said, looking at   
a photo of the chief of staff at City Hospital.  
  
Gretchen nodded distractedly in response.  
  
"I'll need some time to check this out. Do you have a   
safe place to stay?"  
  
"My apartment." Gretchen stopped herself and let out   
a strangled laugh. "I guess that's not really safe,   
though, is it, once this hits the air. They're going   
to know it was me. I was the only one with access to   
the files."  
  
Logan nodded calmly. "There's still some time before   
that happens. Why don't you go home. Gather up your   
things. You can stay here tonight."  
  
Gretchen looked grateful and he wondered why that   
made him feel ashamed.  
  
"Is there anyone who'll be worried about you?   
Boyfriend, husband...?"  
  
"No," Gretchen answered softly, looking away. A   
moment later she confirmed it, her voice stronger.   
"No, there's just me."  
  
"Why don't you meet me here around 8 o'clock? That   
will give me time to do what I need to do."  
  
Gretchen nodded and got up from the couch, slinging   
her bag over her shoulder. "Thank you," she said.  
  
"Don't mention it." They shared a look for another   
long moment, and then she left. Logan paged through   
the file and reached for the phone to call Max.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max's pager went off while she was standing on the   
delivery dock at Metro Medical, waiting for someone   
to sign for her packages. She sighed and didn't look   
at it, figuring it was Logan, but she really didn't   
feel like talking to him. Jumping every time he   
called.  
  
Sounds like jealousy, girlfriend. Max scrunched her   
nose. Since when had the warning voice in her head   
taken on Original Cindy's tone? But good advice was   
good advice.  
  
She stared down at the boxes she held in her hands.   
They were still cold to the touch, although warmer   
now. Wrapped in brown paper, marked with a bar code.   
She traced the ones and zeroes, wondering what was so   
important it would be coded before sent by a bike   
messenger like herself. She wondered if they knew   
what they were dealing with when they contracted with   
Jam Pony. Wouldn't something so important be sent by   
car courier? Less chance of being dropped or falling   
off a bike.  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"Jam Pony messenger. Sign here." Max held out the   
delivery documents she needed to have signed and the   
worker in the white lab coat scrawled a signature   
before picking up the boxes. Max started to walk   
away, but then paused, curiosity getting the best of   
her. "What's in there?" she asked.  
  
"Nothing," the hospital worker snapped, turning away   
and slamming the door. But Max saw how protectively   
he held that box before the door slammed.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Logan was working the system, digging for   
information. Sometimes it wasn't so forthcoming. He   
could really use Max's help, but she wasn't calling   
him back. Wasn't like her, even if she had seen that   
momentary whatever it was with Gretchen, even if he   
and Max had some similar undefinable whatever between   
them.  
  
Undefinable whatever. Great. He was regressing back   
to childhood. Next he'd be asking Bling for his   
cootie shot.  
  
Meanwhile, he'd found no pattern of bribery   
concerning the chief of staff at City Hospital. He   
had, however, found large amounts of supplies that   
were unaccounted for, and the chief of staff had   
links to a bank account in Switzerland. Always a good   
idea, Logan thought. Switzerland had been unaffected   
by the Pulse in '09 - all those criminals remained   
rich while the regular hardworking folk lost   
everything.  
  
Did it add up to the picture Gretchen painted? Logan   
wasn't sure. A call back from Max would have helped,   
but he couldn't count on that. Was the information   
urgent enough to take it to the airwaves without   
absolute verification?  
  
Logan flipped through the file, which included the   
mortality rates at City Hospital. They'd risen in the   
months since the supplies had begun to be   
interrupted, which made sense. No supplies, no   
survival. Taking it to the airwaves could save   
somebody's life. And when it came down to it, that   
was the only thing Logan cared about.  
  
He clicked open the programs and booted up the   
equipment he used for his video hack, rolling up his   
sleeves to get started.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max leaned against the brick facade of the delivery   
area once the door had closed, looking at the display   
on her pager. Logan. Course now he'd given up, since   
she had a couple minutes. Typical, she thought,   
putting it out of her mind and looking back up at the   
hospital.   
  
It'd be an easy walk up the bricks, and she could see   
the file room was unattended up on the fourth floor.   
Why they'd chose to have a window in a confidential   
file room, Max didn't know. Maybe they didn't expect   
any supersoldiers with keen eyesight to go looking in   
them.  
  
She wanted to know more about the man who'd died that   
morning, with organs missing and a bar code stamped   
on his neck. She had to know. And there was only one   
good starting place to find out. Max looked right and   
left, but the alley was deserted.  
  
It would have been better if she'd had a safety rope,   
but hey, she was the kind of girl who liked to live   
dangerously. They'd even left the window open for   
her...wasn't that sweet of them. Max pulled herself   
through the opening and stepped into the file room.  
  
She looked around, wondering how she'd find the   
information on the dead guy. Under "d" for dead guy,   
perhaps? But then she saw an avalanche of folders on   
top of the cabinet nearest the door. Where a harried   
nurse or clerk could easily dump the day's work   
without having to even step inside. Bulls' eye.  
  
Max only had to flip through a couple of files before   
she found the one she wanted. She was mesmerized for   
a second, looking at the police photographs of the   
man's fatal injuries. Maybe Logan's detective friend   
would know something, but probably not. Cops were too   
busy harassing innocent citizens and keeping the   
world safe for the well to do.  
  
Max heard a sound and turned. It was coming from the   
street...where she'd left her bike. She frowned and   
leaned out through the window. A couple of street   
thugs were down there and she could see the intent to   
steal was on their minds. "Hey! What're you doing   
down there?!" Max yelled.  
  
The thugs looked up at her, but seeing a woman four   
stories up wasn't enough to keep them from taking   
transportation they could fence for at least $50 on   
the black market. And Max didn't want to go combing   
the marketplace and paying $50 for her own damn bike.   
One of them split the lock and the other grinned up   
at her, and that's when she jumped out the window.  
  
Max landed on her feet, of course - cats always do.   
"Hey boys," she said seductively, waving at one while   
she introduced the other to the bottom of her foot in   
his face. As he tumbled backward, the other one stood   
there blinking and stunned. Max punched him and sent   
him careening back into the wall of the hospital. Her   
bike free and clear, she shook off the snapped lock   
cable and hopped on, pedaling away.  
  
She looked over her shoulder and saw the two guys   
picking themselves up, trying to figure out what had   
hit them and from what direction. She waved back at   
them and smiled as she pedaled harder back toward Jam   
Pony.  
  
_ _ _  
  
A man wandered into the bike messenger shop, looking   
confused, gingerly holding a package between his   
hands. The look on his face was sour, confused.   
Normal noticed him. "May I help you, sir?" he asked,   
a sarcastic edge to his voice. This was not the kind   
of guy who belonged in his place of business.  
  
The man set the box on the counter in front of   
Normal. Only half a second passed before Normal   
inhaled and then jumped back in horror at the stench   
emanating from the box, which was leaving a wet spot   
on his counter. The man looked at him. "I think this   
is one of your packages," he said.  
  
Normal's face fell, because he hoped not, except   
there it was, the tracking sticker, right there on   
top. Worse, this was one of the rush packages that   
was supposed to have been delivered for their new   
client more than two hours ago. The man just looked   
at him. "What do you want? A medal?" Normal demanded   
and shooed him away.  
  
Max sailed in on her bike at that moment, dismounting   
and then waving her hands in front of her face. "You   
forget to shower or something, Normal?" she inquired.  
  
"Maybe the men's toilet's backed up again," Original   
Cindy suggested. The stench was drawing a crowd of   
messengers.  
  
Normal looked upset, like it was all too much for him   
and he was going to cry. "Sketchy!" he yelled. "Where   
the hell is that doofus?"  
  
He wasn't in the crowd. Max and Original Cindy each   
shrugged. Last time they'd seen him, he'd been headed   
for home. And dumped his backpack in the alley.   
"This was supposed to be delivered two hours ago!"   
Normal yelled, and the messengers began to wander   
away from the desk. None of them wanted to be   
assigned to deliver the stinky package.  
  
"Whatever be in that package, mon, it be evilness.   
That why the new client offer you such money to be   
delivering --"  
  
"Shut up, Herbal," Normal said, pulling an antiquated   
can of Lysol from behind the counter and spraying it   
liberally toward the package. It didn't help.  
  
Herbal just looked at him, and at the box.  
  
"None of your business," Normal informed him.  
  
Herbal shrugged and moved away. Quickly.  
  
"Max!" Normal bellowed, but the entire space around   
him was still and empty.  
  
"...is an Eyes Only information bulletin...cannot be   
bought or threatened."  
  
All the messengers were predictably glued to the   
television in the back, as they always were when this   
Eyes Only jerk came on. "On the clock people!"   
Normal scurried over there to remind them, but no one   
moved. He didn't head back to his desk because the   
stinky package was there.  
  
"More than 100 people have died in the last month at   
City Hospital," Eyes Only reported.  
  
Max tried not to look too interested. At the same   
time, she tried not to look too disinterested. Why   
couldn't anyone else guess it was Logan? Maybe   
because they weren't able to separate his voice from   
the tones added by the disguiser, much the same way   
they couldn't identify the numbers on a tone-dialing   
telephone. Maybe no one had ever looked closely   
enough to recognize those eyes.  
  
"In the same period of time, a large amount of   
bandages, pain killers, surgical anesthesia and other   
medical accoutrements have disappeared inexplicably   
from the stock at City Hospital."  
  
"Hey, Normal, what's 'accoutrements' mean?"  
  
There was no reply. Max almost snickered to herself.   
Normal didn't know either.  
  
"And this man - Roger Salter, chief of staff at City   
Hospital -" The man's picture flashed on the screen,   
joining a small picture of bandages and rubbing   
alcohol and another picture of City Hospital, just to   
make a point. Too bad the entertainment industry had   
been replaced by government-run news channels; Logan   
might've had a career as a music video director. "Has   
made considerable investments in his private Swiss   
bank account. If this man is stealing lives and   
trading them for money, he must be stopped..."  
  
If? Max thought, wondering if anyone else had noticed   
it. no one had, they were all glued to the screen.   
She would have to remember to ask Logan if he put   
some kind of subliminal marker in his broadcasts that   
made them so impossible not to watch. Even though she   
knew it wasn't his style, he might get a kick out of   
the backhanded compliment.  
  
A crackle of static, and a new picture overtook the   
screen. A rustle of surprise went through the   
messengers gathered in front of the TV. A stern,   
deeply computerized voice announced, "Eyes Only is   
lying to you."  
  
_ _ _  
  
Back in his apartment, Logan realized his feed had   
gone dead. Feeling surprise and panic, he adjusted   
everything, but he couldn't get it back. He'd been   
cut off - bumped off - hacked himself.  
  
"Hey, Logan, you've got to come see this," Bling's   
voice came from the other room, where the television   
was.  
  
Logan wheeled out and saw Bling standing in front of   
the TV, a cleaning apron fastened around his hips,   
plastic gloves on his hands. Logan turned and looked   
at the television, shocked by what he saw.  
  
A figure in shadow, ungendered, with no identifying   
features except for the dark black mask over the   
person's eyes. The voice coming from the speakers was   
equally neutral, computerized, featureless. And it   
was calling him a liar.  
  
"Eyes Only has been wrong about several things. His   
actions have lead to the deaths of several prominent   
Seattle citizens. While he accuses Roger Salter of   
murdering his patients by stealing from them,   
consider a snowstorm in the Midwest, delaying a train   
bound for Seattle. On this train? Medical supplies.   
Salter's bank account records."  
  
The document flashed on the screen. Logan cringed to   
see it.  
  
"One large lump-sum deposit. The source? A wealthy   
client thanking Salter for saving his life."  
  
The black mask turned to the camera, which zoomed in   
on the cloth covering the hacker's eyes. "Do not   
trust the eyes. Trust the Outlaw!"  
  
With a flourish and a snap of static, the state-run   
news resumed as the cable hack ended.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"So Eyes Only was on the take. Just like everybody   
else," Original Cindy said to Max. "Should have   
known, so why do I feel so disappointed?"  
  
Max shrugged. She felt strange and light-headed.   
Logan, a liar? Responsible for deaths...she knew   
about those deaths. She'd had a hand in some of them   
herself. Now she didn't know...  
  
"You okay, Boo?" Cindy asked.  
  
"Yeah. I think the stench is getting to me," Max said   
woodenly, returning to Normal's desk. There was a   
box knife in his supply tray and she flicked the   
blade up. Normal saw her from across the room but was   
moving too slowly to stop her as she leaned up over   
the counter and stabbed the putrid box, dragging the   
knife until the box split, exposing the contents.  
  
Nestled inside dry ice that was quickly evaporating   
was a big, purple, human heart.  
  
"Is that what I think it is?" Original Cindy asked,   
turning away.  
  
"Gross!" Sketchy arrived to say, in a way that   
indicated he thought what he was looking at was   
completely gnarly.  
  
Max just looked at Normal, waiting for an   
explanation. Normal didn't have one. He fainted   
instead.  
  
_ _ _ 


	3. No time

  
  
3.   
  
They helped Normal up. "That...that should have been   
delivered!" he cried, shaking his finger at the box   
on the counter. "You had no right!" he informed Max.   
"No right!" Then he whirled around to face Sketchy,   
who was poking the organ with a pencil and evoking   
squishy sounds from it. "Why wasn't this package   
delivered?"  
  
"Emergency," Sketchy said with a shrug, his attention   
still firmly focused on the decomposing organ. He   
turned to Original Cindy. "You know, my mom always   
wanted me to become a doctor."  
  
"That is too scary to even contemplate," Original   
Cindy said.  
  
Sketchy grinned. "Still, it's kind of cool, isn't   
it?" He poked a little harder and the tissue split.   
"Radical!"  
  
Herbal removed the pencil from Sketchy's hand. "What   
you are doing is wrong, mon. That somebody's heart,   
their soul. You don't mess with a mon's soul!"   
Gently he picked up the two halves of the box with   
both hands and carried them over to the trash bin,   
where he deposited it and then turned around,   
crossing his arms. Guarding it, with a challenging   
look on his face.  
  
"Sorry, dude," Sketchy said and started to slink   
away.  
  
"Not so fast," Normal said, catching Sketchy's   
collar. "That was supposed to be delivered! Do you   
have any idea how much money you just knifed and   
poked and oozed? Do you?!"  
  
Sketchy looked at him interestedly, as did Original   
Cindy, as did Max. "Yeah, how much do you make per   
delivery, Normal?" Max inquired.  
  
"I was going to, ahem, share the wealth, if you   
hadn't screwed it up so badly!" Normal yelled. Then   
he broke away from them and went to hide behind the   
counter.  
  
Max's pager sounded. "Gotta blaze," she said,   
grabbing her bicycle. She really wanted to talk to   
Logan, and since he'd summoned, she might as well   
answer.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max poked her head into Logan's apartment. "Anybody   
home?" She pushed the door open and walked inside.   
The TV was on. It took her a few seconds to see Logan   
seated on the couch, remote control in his hand,   
eyebrows furrowed in thought as he reversed the   
images on the screen and then played them.  
  
He was obsessing about the cable hack. Predictable,   
Max thought. "Your girlfriend here?"  
  
"Girlfriend?" Logan asked. He didn't turn to look at   
her, and his usually bemused tone was clouded.  
  
"You know, the chick who was busy trying to suck your   
face off earlier. Oh, wait, should I have tried to   
save you from her? You weren't hurt, were you?" Max   
asked innocently.  
  
"Oh, Gretchen," Logan said distractedly. Gee, I'm   
glad I'm not his girlfriend if she means that much to   
him, Max thought and really wished she could get the   
sarcastic jealous bitch out of her head. "Max, what   
do you think about this?" He started the Outlaw's   
cable hack playing again.  
  
Max scanned the room. "Where's Bling?"  
  
"I sent him out for baking soda. It'll take him at   
least an hour to track some down," Logan replied,   
then looked at Max for the first time since she'd   
walked in. "Seriously, what do you think?"  
  
"I think somebody's out to make you look like a   
liar." She'd always been gifted at stating the   
obvious.  
  
"Why?" Logan asked.  
  
"Because you're right. People trust you. You're the   
last free voice left in the city," Max responded.  
  
"You think it's the government."  
  
"Or somebody who's not too keen on free voices," Max   
responded. "They can't figure out who you are, so   
they can't whack you, so discrediting you's the next   
best thing. Who gave you the information on Salter,   
by the way?"  
  
"A friend."  
  
"A friend who was sucking your face off earlier?" Max   
asked brightly, covering the twingey pain she was   
busy not acknowledging.  
  
"Keep it up and I'll begin to think you're jealous,"   
Logan said, finally shutting off the tape and setting   
the control aside.  
  
Max scoffed at the notion.  
  
"I should have checked my sources more carefully   
before I went to broadcast with it," Logan admitted.   
"The Outlaw was right. I jumped the gun. I wanted to   
see evil, even when none existed."  
  
Typical Logan, blaming himself for everything. Max   
wasn't in the mood to cheer him up. Maybe his new   
girlfriend could manage that one. "Anyway, the dude   
with the bar code. I went to see him in the   
hospital."  
  
"How is he?" Logan asked, forthright as usual.  
  
"He died," Max said. "I got his file."  
  
"This should make interesting reading," Logan said,   
taking the folder from her. "Do you think he was   
Manticore?"  
  
Max shrugged. "It would make sense. The guy had been   
butchered for parts, and Lydecker said Manticore kids   
were valuable, dead or alive."  
  
"Sounds like there's a 'but' in there somewhere,"   
Logan diagnosed.  
  
"I just didn't get that feeling...you know...that he   
was one of us," Max said. "But what other reason   
would there be?"  
  
"Organ for transplant have always sold on the black   
market," Logan said and flipped the folder open. His   
lips curled with disgust. Maybe she should have   
warned him.   
  
"But why the barcode?"  
  
"That would be the question," Logan said. "You up for   
a little investigation?"  
  
Max checked the time on her pager. "My lunch break's   
almost over, but I'll see what I can swing."  
  
"I'll look into this. See if there have been any   
other cases, whether they had bar codes," Logan said,   
closing the file and setting it across his knees. It   
wasn't the kind of thing you wanted your bodyguard   
slash butler to come across while he was   
straightening the living room.  
  
"Hey Max," Logan called to her and she stopped by the   
door. "Dinner?"  
  
"You sure you don't have other plans?"  
  
"I'm sure," he replied.  
  
"I'll put in an effort," Max replied. They both knew   
she'd be there. Free food was a great incentive.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"More?" Max asked as Normal loaded her up with   
several more ice-cold packages back at Jam Pony.  
  
"Now that you all know the urgency in delivering   
these items, there should be no trouble. None,"   
Normal informed her.  
  
Max rolled her eyes, but started shoving them into   
her backpack. With a 30-minute turnaround time, at   
least she could get it done quickly. Too bad no one   
had told the people in this city that a tip to a   
messenger was a good thing indeed. "Hey, Normal,   
there's no return address on any of these," she   
noted.  
  
"That's because no one's going to be returning them.   
They're going to be delivering them. This is a   
delivery service."  
  
"Where do these packages come from, anyway?" Max   
asked, but got no reply as Normal had returned to   
disinfecting the counter area with copious amounts of   
bleach. She shrugged and got on her bike, pedaling   
out to the street.  
  
"Makes you miss the days of delivering pornography,   
don't it?" Herbal rode up next to her, and Max   
smiled.  
  
"Yeah," she agreed. "Something about this is just   
creepy and not right."  
  
"The wicked always get their supper," Herbal said   
knowingly. "Which way you going?"  
  
"City Hospital. You?"  
  
"I got a split load, the hospital and the art   
gallery," Herbal told her. "And it being so far and   
me with my lady ailin' with a poor tooth."  
  
Max nodded. "I hear ya." She put her foot down to   
balance her bike as she swung her backpack from her   
shoulders. "You do the 30-minute hospital run, I'll   
take the lengthy gallery run, call it even?"  
  
"Karma will heap sweet rewards upon you, woman,"   
Herbal said.  
  
"I hope so," Max said, trading packages with her   
friend and then setting off for the gallery.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max was tired and she was hungry. Nice of Logan to   
offer up dinner, although her side trip to the   
gallery hadn't exactly uncovered much concerning   
Manticore or the Outlaw. Except that everyone in the   
streets was talking about the Outlaw. They were also   
talking about Eyes Only, but the words they used were   
ones she was certain Logan wouldn't want to hear.  
  
No Original Cindy and no Sketchy. Must be making one   
last quick run, she thought. Normal was working them   
hard and she knew he'd be keeping all the profit. She   
looked up just as a man in expensive yet casual   
clothes walked in. Normal practically bowed an then   
licked his feet., then showed him into the back   
office. The door closed soundly and Max heard the   
locks fall into place. She glanced around. No other   
messengers. Interesting.  
  
Back to her original thought: if these packages were   
on the up and up, they'd have return addresses and   
they wouldn't be using a service like Jam Pony. She   
glanced back at the door, then stepped behind the   
counter, quickly going through the papers gathered   
there.  
  
She found a contract signed by Caduceus LLC. Address   
down by the waterfront. Not exactly the business   
district. She noted the pertinent information and put   
the paper back where she'd gotten it from, glancing   
to see the door was still closed as she made her   
exit.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Damn, girl, where you going dressed like that?"   
Kendra inquired.  
  
"I've got a date," Max informed her.  
  
"Rich boyfriend likes it kinky, huh?" Kendra asked,   
flipping back her pale blond hair.  
  
Max shook her head, then skimmed her hands down the   
tight sheen of the practically painted-on pants she   
was wearing.  
  
"Didn't think he seemed the type," Kendra continued.   
"Think you can snag us some dish soap?"  
  
"Dish soap. Check. I'll see what I can do." Max put   
on her sunglasses - which she only ever wore when she   
was riding her bike at night - and headed out with   
her motorcycle, feeling smug and confident.  
  
_ _ _  
  
It was definitely a waterfront warehouse, Max noted,   
standing there deciding on the best way to get   
inside. It might just be easier to break in, she   
thought, looking at the row of mostly broken windows   
at the top of the facility. But why would she want to   
put a perfectly good outfit to waste?  
  
She knocked on the door and put on her innocent, dumb   
doe-eyed expression. As predicted, a middle aged,   
unattractive man came to the door. Why was it they   
were always middle aged and unattractive? It just   
made her job that much easier. "Hi," she said   
breathlessly. "I was sent to see Richard Bakehous."   
The man who'd signed the contract.  
  
"Who sent you?" the guy asked, his eyes flicking   
rapidly over her body. She expected drool at any   
moment. It was sickening.  
  
Max frowned, like she working real hard to think but   
it was just too tough. "Oh, gee, what was his name?"   
she asked. "I think it started with an S? Or maybe a   
C...?"  
  
The middle-aged doorman looked at her doubtfully,   
then opened the door more widely. "Rick's in a   
meeting. You can keep me company till he's done." He   
stood there with the door open waiting for her to   
come in. Max checked her mental map of exits and ways   
out, then graciously stepped inside.  
  
The place was pristine and brightly lit, in contrast   
to its scuzzball exterior. Max looked around, big-  
eyed. "What do you do here?" The middle aged dude   
looked at her sharply. She put her hand against his   
arm and stroked it gently. "I mean, it must be   
awfully big and important."  
  
"Confidential," he told her, sitting down at a desk   
near the door. There were cards shuffled there. They   
must not get a lot of visitors. He caught her   
checking out the cards. "You want to play?"  
  
"Oh, I only know games like Go Fish," Max said.  
  
"I love Go Fish!" The guy's face lit up and he   
gathered the cards into a pile, preparing to   
distribute them.  
  
"Me too," Max said. Then she squirmed in her chair.   
"You guys got any facilities I can use?"  
  
The guy looked at her.  
  
"Please, it's a long way from town and when a girl's   
gotta go..."  
  
"Up those stairs." The guy motioned with the pack of   
cards. "First door on the left."  
  
"Thanks," she said and hurried a few steps with an   
intriguing wiggle. Then she stopped and looked back   
at him.  
  
"First door. Left."  
  
She nodded, then sprinted up the stairs. For good   
measure, she pushed open the door to the bathroom and   
looked around. No window, no means of escape. Then   
she quietly let the door fall closed and turned to   
see what else was there.  
  
She heard voices. Must be Rick's meeting, she   
thought, taking a few silent steps in that direction,   
focusing her ears on the sound. "People are going to   
start noticing."  
  
"Don't worry. I've told the boys to be more subtle.   
And careful. That's the least of our worries."  
  
Max walked past the room where the voices were coming   
from and pushed open another door. It was dark, but   
there were lights coming from inside. It was a small   
viewing room, and Max walked over to the window and   
looked down where the lights were coming from.  
  
Below her was an operating room. It wasn't very high-  
tech in itself, but the equipment scattered around   
was definitely hospital-quality. Boxes were stacked   
in one corner and she squinted, but the labels had   
mostly been ripped from them.  
  
She wondered if Lydecker had a room like this. Not   
the OR - she knew he had But a room like this, high   
above, where people could watch. She started to feel   
a little shaky, standing there, looking down. Somehow   
she could just see it...government types gathered   
there, Lydecker smirking, one of the kids lying on   
the gurney...  
  
Maybe Manticore was involved. Probably no way to find   
out for sure.  
  
Max started back the way she'd came and started   
listening to the conversation again. "After what   
that hack said, people are going to be looking into   
medical supplies. And not just City Hospital," the   
man said.  
  
"No one's going to take that guy seriously. I took   
care of it." The woman.  
  
Max pushed open the door of the observation room and   
edged out into the hallway. Just then, the door to   
the next room, where the man and the woman were   
talking, opened. "I don't think he's going to be   
that easy to get rid of," the man said, turning back.   
  
Max took a couple of sneaky steps, but she knew they   
were going to catch her. Just a fit of bad timing.  
  
"He'll be easier than you think," the woman said with   
a toss of her blond hair. Max stopped and looked at   
her, recognizing her with a bit of surprise. Logan   
was gonna hate to hear about this. He was gonna start   
thinking she was the possessive type, the way she had   
to keep breaking it to him that all his girlfriends   
were on the take.  
  
"What are you doing up here?" the man demanded.  
  
"Richard Bakehous, I presume," Max said and gave him   
a swift elbow to the face.   
  
He howled with pain as his knees buckled and he sat   
down hard on the floor. "OW! That was my nose!"  
  
Max hit him again, this time hard enough to knock the   
wind out of him. "And those were your ribs," she   
replied, turning to the woman.  
  
"You don't --"  
  
"Yeah, I think I do," Max told her, and one strong   
right hook knocked her out. Wimp.  
  
"Hey boss -" the thug from downstairs called.  
  
One more for the road, Max thought, listening to the   
man wheeze his way up the stairs. Some bodyguard he   
was. She met him at the top of the rickety staircase,   
bracing herself with both hands on the railings. She   
lifted her body and kicked the bodyguard. He fell   
backward and she leapt the rest of the way down,   
landing neatly on her feet.  
  
She wanted to have a quick look around, but something   
told her that would be less than wise. For all she   
knew, Wheezy had already called the cops. And Max   
didn't really like the cops. They tended to take   
things too seriously. Like it was their job or   
something.  
  
"I'd stop right there if I were you." The woman's   
voice came from the top of the stairs.  
  
"You only wish you were me," Max sniped over her   
shoulder at Logan's ladyfriend, who had a pistol in   
her hand.  
  
"I thought the voice sounded familiar." The woman   
finished walking down the stairs and approached Max   
with the gun aimed directly at her.  
  
"Score one for you," Max said sarcastically. "But I   
don't think it's gonna win you any points when I tell   
Logan what your deal really is."  
  
"I guess I'll just have to keep you from telling   
him," the woman said.  
  
"You might want to be careful with that thing, it   
might go off," Max warned her. She didn't like guns.   
But the woman was more nervous than she cared to let   
on, and Max knew it was easy to take down an enemy   
who was afraid of you. Their fear did your job for   
you.  
  
Max circled around her, waiting for an opportunity,   
an opening, anything.  
  
"That would be a shame, wouldn't it." Funny, she   
didn't sound like she thought it would be a shame.  
  
There was the sound of a truck from outside and then   
the springing of a lock on the warehouse door. It   
caught both their attention, but Max was faster. She   
got in a punch and then wrenched the gun away from   
the older woman.  
  
But the bitch wouldn't give up. Once Max had the   
gun, the woman followed her, and used her body weight   
to slam Max against the desk. "Give that back to me,"   
the woman snarled.  
  
"You forgot to say please," Max replied, trying to   
thumb the safety back on the gun so it wouldn't   
accidentally go off. It was difficult when she had no   
room to maneuver or breathe, the steel of the desk   
digging into her rib cage.  
  
She skittered the gun away from them, knowing the   
woman would go after it. She did, and Max whirled   
around and grabbed her arm. But the woman must have   
anticipated the move, because she shoved Max's head   
against the desk and pinned her.  
  
"What's this?" Max felt the woman's fingers on the   
back of her neck, but remained perfectly still,   
knowing if she did so the woman would loosen her   
grip. "Looks like somebody's done part of our work   
for us."  
  
"What's going on here?" The voice, along with the   
sudden blast of cold air, told Max whoever was   
outside was now inside. Max lurched up and back and   
threw Gretchen to the floor.  
  
"Sketchy?" Max inquired, wrinkling her nose in   
surprise at seeing her friend, his hands tied   
together with a plastic cord, controlled by the man   
standing there in expensive yet casual clothes. The   
man she'd seen meeting with Normal.  
  
"I didn't know, Max, I swear," Sketchy said. "I was   
just in it for the money."  
  
"What money?" Max asked, eyeing the man in the suit.   
Figured Sketchy would end up involved in something   
like this. She glanced at him and saw he was on the   
verge of freaking out, but she saw something else -   
his skin was pale and his pupils were dilated.   
"What'd you give him?"  
  
"Just a sedative," the man replied. He started to   
smile and Max moved to pop him one, except there was   
a pinprick in her ass and she knew she'd just been   
given a nice healthy dose of sedative herself.   
"Gotcha," the man said smugly.  
  
_ _ _  



	4. Ending?

  
4.  
  
"Damn," Max whined, rolling forward limply as though   
she'd been instantly affected by the knockout drops.  
  
"Looks like you let things get out of hand,   
Gretchen," the man said.  
  
"No, the security guard you hired let things get out   
of hand, Roger. But it worked out for the best. Now   
we have two healthy young specimens to make our quota   
for the week. This one's a real fighter." Gretchen   
nudged Max with her foot and Max resisted the urge to   
bite it off.  
  
"Hadn't you better go make sure our friend is taken   
care of?" Roger inquired. "He's expecting you, isn't   
he?"  
  
Gretchen nodded. "I'll be back in two hours. Maybe   
less."  
  
"I'll try to save some of the fun till you get back,"   
Roger told her.  
  
"Please don't," she requested. Another blast of cold   
air and the door slammed shut.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Logan was worried about Max. He replaced the phone   
after paging her for the 30th time in 5 minutes.   
Well, not really, it just felt that way. It wasn't   
that he had a problem with her standing him up for   
dinner. He just had a very bad feeling she'd gone and   
gotten herself into danger.  
  
How unlike Max that would be, he thought.  
  
"You're worried about her," Bling diagnosed.  
  
Logan shot him a droll look.   
  
"She's a big girl. She can take care of herself."  
  
More than you know, Logan thought, but said nothing.  
  
"Besides, you wouldn't want her to run into your   
other friend. Isn't she supposed to be here at   
eight?"  
  
Logan blinked. In all the excitement of the copycat   
hacker, he'd almost forgotten about Gretchen. Which   
was, now that he thought about it, one of the primary   
reasons for their relationships' initial failure.   
He'd get obsessed and she would feel forgotten. At   
least Max wasn't that insecure.  
  
The doorbell chimed. "That must be her now," Logan   
commented, wheeling over to the door. "What happened   
to you?" he asked Gretchen, who was standing there   
with a black eye and a bloody split lip.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max was still biding her time. Irritatingly, Roger   
didn't seem to mind leaving her lying on the floor.   
"Max!" Sketchy cried and she wanted to tell him it   
was going to be okay. Even though that was a lie,   
since he'd probably just go off and get involved with   
the Russian Mafia for an easy $20. Oh wait, he'd   
already done that.  
  
Max counted to fifty to make sure they weren't coming   
back, then picked herself up from the floor. She   
dusted the dirt from her pants, but knew there was   
going to be no way to repair the hole from the needle   
they'd injected her with. Must have been some kind of   
serotonin something sedative because she was feeling   
pretty good.  
  
Instead of heading into the operating room, she   
headed up the stairs. Just barging in there would be   
so plain and boring. As there frequently were in old   
abandoned warehouses, she found a coil of rope under   
the stairs and brought it with her, up to the   
observation room.  
  
She looked down and saw the good doctor Roger had   
Sketchy laid out on the operating table and was   
setting out his supplies - several sharp, shiny   
instruments, and a row of plastic boxes with dry ice   
foaming from inside them.  
  
Max uncoiled the rope, lassoing it around a ceiling   
beam and pulling it taut. Ready to go.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Oh, Logan, it was terrible, you have no idea,"   
Gretchen cried, throwing herself at him and sobbing   
against his chest.  
  
Bling cleared his throat and politely left the room.  
  
"Who hurt you?" Logan asked her, but Gretchen just   
sobbed louder. "Ssh," he told her, stroking her   
hair. "It's okay."  
  
_ _ _  
  
Max broke through the window feet-first, shattering   
the mirrored one-way glass. She swung on the rope and   
then dropped herself down into the operating theater.   
Roger stood there with his mouth hanging open.  
  
"Whatsa matter, you never seen a supergirl fly   
before?" Max asked him.  
  
"My hero," Sketchy said before he passed out on the   
table.  
  
"It's a good racket, isn't it Roger?" Max asked him   
as he recovered his senses and realized he had a   
surgical scalpel in his hand. "First you got into   
black market medical supplies. Then you figured, what   
the hell? Organs are supplies too, aren't they? And   
they bring in way more dough."  
  
Roger slashed at her with the knife, but Max was   
faster and trained in evasive maneuvers. She was just   
talking to keep him from focusing his entire   
attention on the fight.  
  
"What the hell are you?" he demanded. "That syringe   
had enough chemicals in it to induce a coma. You   
should be brain dead by now."  
  
"That's the thing, Rog," Max said. "I guess you never   
considered what people were doing with those parts   
once they got them from you. Put em all together and   
it adds up to quite a package, don't it?" She modeled   
for him slightly and he looked like he was going to   
be sick. She grabbed the lapels of his lab coat and   
drew him close to her to demand, "I just want to know   
why you barcode 'em when you're done with 'em."  
  
"To keep track," he replied and Max had never seen   
eyes so cold or evil. She tossed him away from her   
in disgust.  
  
"Boss, there's an intruder -" The security guard had   
woken from naptime. Max whirled around and Roger took   
a step, but the security guard had already pulled the   
trigger. His blood spattered the security guard, who   
stood there with the gun lowered, trembling as he   
stared at his dead boss.  
  
He looked at Max. "I didn't -"  
  
"There's still time to get away," she told him. He   
turned and ran like the coward he was. She heard him   
wheeze and then the door slammed. Max turned back   
and stepped over Roger's body to get to Sketchy, who   
was murmuring but completely out of it. She picked   
him up and slung his arm around her shoulders. She'd   
drop a dime to the cops, but she figured by the time   
they got around to checking it out Rick Bakehous   
would have cut and run - and probably taken the   
valuable parts of Roger Salter's body with him.  
  
_ _ _  
  
Logan poured Gretchen another glass of wine and   
contemplated her across the table. She still looked   
pretty bad. "You can stay here tonight. The guest   
room's been made up. I've made arrangements for you   
to travel tomorrow. Your new name is going to be   
Lorraine Wildham."  
  
"Lorraine," Gretchen smiled. The smile faded quickly,   
though. "I can't thank you enough for everything   
you've done for me," she told him.  
  
Logan just nodded. "Maybe you should get some rest."  
  
"Maybe I should." Gretchen rose from the table and   
went down the hall.  
  
Logan put his head down and sighed. He really hated   
being lied to.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Oh my god, Max? What happened?" Sweet Natalie, with   
her hair in little baby barrettes, panicked when she   
saw Max at the door.  
  
"I think he had a little too much, if you know what I   
mean," Max said.  
  
"Baby?" Sketchy said, rousing to see his fiancée.  
  
"You have to stop doing this to yourself, sweetums,"   
Natalie said, taking Sketchy's hand and wrapping it   
around her own shoulders. "Thanks for brining him   
home."  
  
"I'd just let him sleep it off," Max advised her.   
Natalie nodded and closed the door to the apartment.  
  
Max stood there for a second, thinking of domestic   
bliss. Not that Sketchy was her idea of domestic   
bliss - not even close - but just the thought of   
having someone there, waiting when you got home,   
dinner on the table.  
  
Dinner. Logan. She'd completely forgotten.  
  
_ _ _  
  
"Logan, I am so sorry, I was in the middle of   
something and..." Max was already apologizing as she   
walked through the door.  
  
He was staring out the window. Like he always did   
when he was brooding.  
  
"You okay?" Max asked, stopping several paces behind   
him.  
  
He nodded, raising his eyebrows as he looked at her.  
  
"I've got bad news for you. About your friend, the   
one who was here --"  
  
"I know," Logan said with a nod.  
  
Max just looked at him, surprised.  
  
"Detective Sung was just here. They have a nice, cozy   
cell with her name on it."  
  
"I'm sorry," Max offered, but it wasn't worth much.   
Logan nodded his appreciation, then went back to   
staring out the window. "Logan -" she began.  
  
"Leftovers in the fridge," he interrupted.  
  
Max was tempted, but she didn't want to leave him   
there. "Hey," she said, touching his shoulder and   
coming around to face him.  
  
"It's just so embarrassing, you know?" he said,   
taking off his glasses and polishing them on his   
shirt so he wouldn't have to face her. "Do I have   
'Sucker' written on my forehead? Everybody who   
crosses that threshold tries to play me, and now when   
they come in I don't even try to help them. I see   
right through it."  
  
"World's an ugly place," Max said.  
  
"Don't spout truisms at me, Max," Logan warned her,   
then let his anger collapse with a heavy sigh.  
  
Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe he needed to be alone   
right now. "I should go," she said. They could catch   
up tomorrow. She picked up her jacket from where   
she'd tossed it on the couch on her way in and   
started for the door. "For what it's worth - you   
were right about Roger Salter and City Hospital. Just   
another shadow-dweller."  
  
Logan nodded. Max looked down, wishing she knew what   
to say.  
  
"Hey, Max?" Logan asked and looked at her. She looked   
up and their eyes locked for a second before he   
carefully glanced away. "While you're up, could you   
get me some of the lasagna out of the fridge?"  
  
"Sure," Max said with a smile. Lasagna. He knew it   
was her favorite. She headed into the kitchen and   
after a moment he joined her, and then she knew   
everything was going to be all right.  
  
End. 


End file.
